


In His Hands

by mistyzeo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-15
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: Sam & Dean holding hands for any reason in public.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obstinatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatrix/gifts).



They're on the street in St. Louis when Sam goes vacant for the third time in two weeks. He's in the middle of a sentence about the probability of them running into someone who's seen a ghost when he stalls out, going quiet and just stopping, right there, on the sidewalk. Some douchebag walks smack into him from behind, but Sam is huge and the guy bounces off, cursing.  
  
"Fucking watch where you're going!" the guy snarls, and Dean shoots him a glare that would peel paint off the Impala. He slinks away, properly chastised, and Dean takes Sam by the shoulders.  
  
Sam's eyes are dull, unfocused, and his brow is furrowed. Dean gives him a little shake, hopeful.  
  
"Sammy?" he says. "Hey, Sammy, Sam, Sam-meister, you in there? Come back to me, buddy."  
  
Nothing. Dean takes a measured breath and ignores the sideways looks of the people passing them. He slides his hands down Sam's arms and takes his hands. He digs his thumbs into Sam's palms, right into the scar that Sam still touches when he's anxious. It's a better tell than the way he looks left when he's lying, and Dean presses on it, hard.  
  
"Sam," he says, more firmly, "whatever you're seeing, it's shit. It's a lie. Look at me. Sam, _look_ at me," and he squeezes, pressing into Sam's hands so hard his thumbs hurt, and Sam blinks. His eyes refocus, and he frowns hard, like he's in pain.  
  
"Hey," Dean says, "you good?"  
  
"Dean," Sam says, letting out his breath on a heavy sigh, "Dean."  
  
Dean turns his hands over and links all ten of his fingers with Sam's. Sam looks down at them, his face flushing, and tries to pull away, but Dean holds tight.  
  
"Not until you're good," he says. "'Til you tell me to stop."


End file.
